Whispers of an Eagle
by Vaoni
Summary: The five times that Altair was talked about and the one time that Malik defended him. Altair/Malik


**Whispers of the Eagle. **

_Pairings:_ Malik/Altair

_Disclaimer:_ Don't own, nor profit from anything. Ever. Seriously. I'm that poor.

_Summary: _The five times that Altair was talked about and the one time that Malik defended him.

AN: I'm really obsessed with this game as I had to do research on it for work (need knowledge for customers!). I am slowly making my way to the third game that was just released, although I am really going to miss Altair! I wish he was a main character in all the games!

~_xxxxxxxxxxx~_

_Am I dreaming or is it all real?_

_Is it true I'm an eagle?_

_Is it true I can spread my wings?_

_xxxxxxxxxxxx~_

"I heard that Adha left because Altair could not prove himself as a man."

Hassan's face was mischievous as he spoke, his hands tearing at a stale piece of bread.

"I heard that she tired of his straying, who knows whether it was to other women?" Masin's beard was slick with wine as he spoke. He was known for his rebellious streak and his blunt humour.

"I was in Damascus to speak with the Rafiq. The lone Eagle visited him but a moon ago. He made sure to mention his novice status."

"What a dishonour, I would take a leap if such a title was bestowed on me again."

"Perhaps he wishes to annoy us all into such an action."

Masin leaned forward, his face shadowed by the fire which flickered against him ominously, "I do not doubt that he shall be dead within the next moon. We may hope for such an end."

"Perhaps we shall be the next Eagles of this kingdom."

"I would slay Altair Ibn-La'Ahad myself for such a title."

~_xxxxxxxxxxxx~_

"Master, shall I send word for Altair's return?"

"Make sure you keep our true novice's away from him."

"Yes Master. May I inquire why?"

"Do not question my orders. Just do as I say." Al Maulim turned back to his scrolls, his face grim and resigned. He was unprepared for the Eagle's arrival. If it had not been for a minor skirmish on the road from Acre, he would have been completely distracted. He rolled up a few important documents and placed them securely in a deep, oak chest. He locked it and fingered the key with relish.

It wasn't long before talk drifted to him from below. The guards often spoke to each other in quiet times and he made sure to listen each time, to learn the truth about his position and the town. He had learned long ago that the lowest of men often spoke the highest truth.

"I heard that Altair is to visit again?"

One guard snorted, "I do not understand how one man could be so respected and so hated."

"It is enough that every novice worships him. He does not have to act so suspiciously around us, it is no wonder that he hasn't been eliminated by Al Maulim himself."

"Keep it down, Sahir. The Grand Master is just above us."

"I am sure that he can not hear us. I have been talking at this level for months and he has yet to complain. You know how quick he is to correct something that he disapproves of."

"… You are right. But I can not help but feel sorry for Altair."

"How? He is as arrogant now as he was before. Allowing him to kill towards status again has only confirmed his belief in his abilities."

"Yes… but we are a brotherhood. I could not imagine our order without its strength of loyalty."

"We must not feel sorry for him. One who kills innocents is not as we are. We can not think of him as such."

There was a brief silence, both men considering all that they had said. It was the Sahid who spoke again, quiet but clearly, "… and we must not forget Malik A-Sayf. Altair was responsible for his pain."

"Yes. He must be cruel indeed to cause such a fate."

Al Maulim looked out the window as he considered their words. Altair was dangerous, for while he was hated, even loathed by the vast majority of the order, a small trickle of pity always planted itself in others mind. Knowing their own sacrifices to achieve their status, Altair's excel in rank seemed inhuman and cold. And yet, his resignation to his fate and his acceptance of responsibility created a murmur, a small waif of doubt that rose through every rank.

He would have to keep a closer reign on the man. He relished such an opportunity to see him cower.

~_xxxxxxxxxxxxxx~_

"Do you really think you can make that jump?"

"Yes! And if you would just let go of me, I would show you!"

"But then where would I get my fun?"

Esmir held the young novice's arms, smirking at their thinness and lean shape. His own arms were long and filled with muscle and strength. He was but a few weeks away from becoming an assassin and he had built a reputation amongst the novice's. When they gathered in the courtyard of Masyaf, he would use his stature and his strength to attract those who were destined for greatness. His personal quest was to eliminate those who were inferior, to drive them from the order so that their weakness would not sully the good name of his mentor's.

"Esmir, I do not want to fight with you!"

He grinned maliciously, "Most would not."

The young novice was becoming frustrated, he could see it in the way that his cheeks flushed, that his eyes widened and became panic stricken, "Please, Esmir, let me leave in peace."

"Not until I have my fight."

"To prove what? That you are stronger then me? We both know that to be true!"

He pushed the novice into the ground, putting his foot on the boy's chest with a fierce sense of ownership. His loyal brother's (only by name, not by blood) grinned as the boy struggled beneath him.

"Altair! Altair!"

The young novice was shouting, his eyes trained on a single figure that danced across the rooftops. Esmir snarled at the boy as he pressed his foot on his neck, cutting off both air and words.

"Do not shout for _him. _He will not save you, he'd rather let you die, just for the fun of it. He is not the assassin who once shared tales with you, he is a novice, a disgraced man that even his own mentor, the Grand Master himself, could not stand to have in his order. You are more then a coward them I thought, calling to such disgrace and filth as Altair Ibn-La'Ahad."

His brother's eyes widened, "Esmir, maybe you should…"

"What? I will not apologize, Altair is not an Eagle; he is a snake. He strikes without purpose. He is beneath our feet, a thing to be trodden on."

He glared at the novice who was smirking, his smile was simply glowing, as strange look considering that his foot was still firmly lodged on his windpipe.

"What are you smirking at you –"

And then, he felt the rough dirt collide with his cheek. The air was driven from his lungs and he gasped at the stabbing pain in his side. He could feel stones mesh with his palm and penetrate the skin, which bled and oozed.

Looking up, he gasped at the hooded figure, which stood above him. He suddenly didn't care about the rough gravel or the pain of his side and palms. Using the muscles in his leg, he pushed himself back, further and further away from the hooded figure whose aura was stiflingly menacing and brimming with fury. It was disturbing that such fear could be instilled in Esmir without one word being spoken.

Looking behind the man, he could see his brothers sprinting off in the opposite direction. Using all of his strength, he pushed himself off the ground and away from Altair. He could hear the young novice laughing, though his voice was harsh from its abuse.

~_xxxxxxxxxxxx~_

Dalal combed her long luxurious hair as she sat beside the garden fountain.

Her body felt warm and comfortable, the wealthy silks of her garb rubbing smoothly along her honey coloured skin. Her lips had been recently painted, her eyes decorated with Khol to make them seem seductive and alluring. It was her first day amongst the harem of Masyaf, an honour which her family had been sure to push her into. They had been gifted with riches beyond any had possessed, a reward for delivering a beauty into the garden of entrancing women.

All in the town knew that the harem of Masyaf contained only the most beautiful and treasured of women. They would be treated as Queens, decorated with the most rare of paints and treated to only the finest tea's and clothes. They would not have to burden their bodies with labour and with cooking and cleaning and all those back breaking tasks that a woman faced. Their only task was to please the men which came for them, to fulfil their wishes in a most erotic way.

For her, the acceptance of such a task had not been for the paints or the teas or the silks which made her feel as if she was ascending to heaven. It was for the scrolls which, as an unoccupied woman of luxury, she was free to read and adore.

"Dalal, you look so pretty! I told you that shade of red would suit you."

She looked towards Ikram, a genuine smile blooming across her face. While she had noticed slight animosity towards her joining (for the harem was a structured order), Ikram had welcomed her generously. The woman was petite, her eyes a deep shade of green that gave her an honest and yet mysterious look.

"I must trust you in the future. You have so much more experience in this life then I do."

As such a new recruit, she had yet to please a man. She was still a virgin, a must for a woman that was unmarried. In the harem, it was accepted that you entered a virgin and that the first man would be the first one to ask. There was no refusal for new girls, only for the highest of women amongst the small family.

"I see that you are nervous," said Ikram as she took Dalal's plaited braid and unwound it, "but you must not be. A man can always tell if a woman is not pleased. Only a certain kind takes pleasure without caring for a woman's comfort."

"It is so hard. I have been taught all of my life to be modest and chaste… and yet, I now wear so little."

Ikram smiled sadly, "You will get used to such a life. It is not bad, although it is different. But now, tell me what you wish for your first time. You have seen the men have you not? Which do you wish to take?"

"How could I think such a thing?" Dalal's face was white with horror at the notion.

"Oh, my young one. Soon, bedding a man will be as natural as eating. Indulge my old soul this one time, share with me whom you desire."

Dalal blushed, "I can not. It is embarrassing!"

"I will not tell, little one! I swear myself to secrecy!"

"Do you promise?"

"To Allah himself."

"Okay… well…"

She murmured lowly, her long fingers entwining themselves in her black threads of hair.

"I can not hear you, little one!"

"I wish to bed… the Eagle," she said louder, her face entrancingly naïve as she gazed at Ikram with her doe like eyes.

Ikram's smile seemed as wide as her face.

Dalal hid her face in her hands at the look, "Oh, do not look at me like that, Ikram!"

"I am not judging you harshly," said the woman, "I actually commend the choice. We have _all _wished to bed the Eagle."

Dalal blushed as she asked sweetly, "So he visits here often?"

"No," said the woman as she sat straighter, her mood sombre, "he has never visited for that reason. He walks in the garden sometimes. It is rather sad, for he has been disgraced by the other's. He does not speak but I have passed him on occasion. I do not know whether it is from the desertion of Adha, his old lover, that makes him sad or for what he did to the Rafiq, Malik."

"Whom are they?"

"I do not know much of Adha. She was a mysterious person, as much as in life as in death. But Malik A-Sayf was the reason his title was taken. The Eagle was the cause for his taken arm and his passed brother."

Dalal held a hand to her mouth, her eyes shining in the sun, "That is so sad. The poor man!"

"Yes, he has been through much. My only wish is to relieve him of that burden for a woman's body can ease the pain of one's life. But… he has not come to us for that reason. I suspect that the loss of Malik and Adha drained him of love's passion."

"You do not think… he and Malik?"

"I could not say. However, I hear that he visits Jerusalem more then necessary. That the Rafiq is the only one whom he asks after. It is his silence which gives him away. There is a longing there that could only be for love."

Ikram's eyes were sad, as if remembering a love of her own. The woman spoke quietly, almost brokenly, "You may experience that feeling soon. We can not help wish for more then a man can give us."

"So you have been in love?"

"I have been hurt which I assume must be because of love. It is a harsh mistress."

"Are you happy here?"

Ikram grasped her hand, "Here, I am free."

Dalal thought of her life outside the garden. A life were she was sure to marry someone she had not met, where she would work until death and bear a litter of children. She thought about the scrolls she now read and the adoration the women had for their own bodies and thoughts. She thought of how she walked amongst the town without an escort, without the fear of being labelled a heathen.

She felt trapped as a bird and yet free within its cage.

~_xxxxxxxxxxx~_

"I do not wish to use him!"

"Do you wish to be pursued by the guards until your death?"

"I can not use him."

"Hilel, you have no other choice. They will kill you as they did, Burhan."

Hilel sighed, his shoulder's sagging at the notion. He had been hunted by the city guards for days now, his informer brethren having warded off their pursuits for the vast majority of that time. He had exhausted all of his hiding spots and eaten all of his reserves. He had no other choice then to use Altair skills.

"And if I do use him, will he demand a debt?"

"Only that of information. Tell him what you have learned in this city and that should appease him. He will not pursue the matter if you can not tell him anything."

"Even if he delivers me from the guards?"

"He uses missions such as yours to build good will."

Hilel sighed, saying his goodbyes to his fellow informer as he waited amongst the side streets of Acre. He sent a quick prayer to Allah, urging him to bring the Eagle to his aide. He prayed for the health of his wife, to the life of his young son whom he loved with all of his heart.

It wasn't long before a shadow emerged, silently and fluidly from the arches of a building. He felt nervous, as if under the watchful eyes of a predator. The hairs on the back of his neck stood to attention.

"Safety and peace, my brother."

Altair spoke quietly, although his voice travelled clearly to Hilel, "I wish to deliver you to such a state."

"Then you know of my predicament?"

"Only that you are in need of my skills."

"Yes, Altair. I have been hunted, day and night, by the city guards. My position was jeopardized by a novice whom I rescued by killing a group of guards. The regent has used my case as an example and has sent his squadron of guards to patrol each gate. I only need to make it out of the city for I have a young son that needs me and a starving wife. I would not ask unless I was desperate, Altair, but I am at a loss for how I can survive for much longer."

"I see," said the man, his hood covering his face, "then you only need me to clear a path for you to escape through?"

"Yes."

"Then I shall do so. I will return when the path is clear. Be ready to run."

He nodded, a line of sweat falling down his temple. He had little faith in the notorious novice.

The minutes passed agonizingly. Although he had waited for longer on many other missions, every heartbeat seemed like eternity. He thought of his son's first steps and cast his mind to the nights of passion with his wife.

Without warning, Altair skidded to a halt outside of his hiding place.

"Run, Hidel. They are coming."

He ran for all that he was worth. He ran until his breath tore itself with each painful gasp out of his throat. He ran until the gates flew by him and the city was in the distance. He ran until he stumbled and fell and sobbed in pure relief.

When he heard hoof beats on the road, he felt like throwing his stomach up. Quickly he darted behind a boulder, aware that he neither concealed nor distracted any intelligent person.

"Hidel, you are safe now."

He gasped and threw himself out from his cover, "Altair, you… how?"

The man did not answer his question but simply led the horse calmly to his spot before dismounting. "I require information, brother."

Hidel nearly cried at the simplicity of his request, "Of course, my brother, of course." He lunged into an explanation of everything he had heard, of every whisper, yell and demand that had passed him by.

When he was gasping for air and struggling to speak more, Altair handed him the reigns of the Arabian horse, "Your information has helped my mission, brother. Safety and peace."

Grasping the reigns dumbly, he watched as Altair disappeared over the ridge, leaping with a faith inspired by Allah himself.

"May you find such an end, Eagle."

He longed for his family.

~_xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx~_

Malik hated guests.

They were loud, mostly rude and treated him as a servant. He was sure that every other man of his ranking was treated with respect and he cursed his crippled arm for the lack of decorum the men showed. Under the pretence of a scribe, it was difficult to complete his customer's orders when the distraction of their talk intruded upon his mind.

"You should have seen the legs of this one. If she had not have fallen, I would never had guessed at what lay beneath those baggy clothes."

"Did you bed her?"

"No, for just at that moment, I was surrounded by guards. It would have been fine except that my sword had snapped at the hilt when I thrust it through the target's rib cage."

"Ah, Numair, you were never a gentle one."

"His wife would attribute to that," said another guard, his mouth full of rice.

Malik was fuming. He felt appalled at their speech, at the suggestion that Numair was not only a terrible assassin but also a cheater to his wife. He held his quill firmly, trying to concentrate on the parchment in front of him.

A solid thump signalled a new arrival.

"Ah, so the Eagle has landed! Tell us Altair, what does it feel like to have a clipped wing?"

He did not hear an answer to the question as Altair tended to retreat into himself when accosted by the other assassin's. Although he felt a great resentment towards the man, he could not understand the jumble of emotions that appeared at the sight of him.

"Safety and peace, Malik."

Feeling a sense of empathy for the man, he said back levelly, "Safety and peace… Altair."

It took him a moment to realise that he had been about to call him brother. A label that he could no longer honour Altair with, knowing that he had been the cause of his real brother's death.

"What news do you bring?" He asked, a great heaviness penetrating his chest. He felt cornered, although Altair had remained a respectful distance away from him. He could still hear the jeers of the men as they drank and ate his food but it faded at the pained look from his former friend.

"I have eliminated the target." The man said bluntly.

"But not without harm to yourself," he observed. He could see that Altair's casual lean on the wall had not been a sign of confidence but instead of weariness and pain.

He pulled a box out from underneath the counter.

Altair was watching him, his eyes white and almost distressed, "What are you doing?"

Realizing that he was expecting harsh words, perhaps even an additional pain to his body, Malik felt sickened. He was bitter and resented Altair but he did not wish him harm. When he had spoken those harsh words, before his arm had been amputated, he had been angry and confused. The hurt had been deeper then any wound and the misery of that hurt had lasted for months. He could see however, a different hurt in Altair. A pain that came from the never-ending barbs of his former friends. A pain that came from loneliness and loss and a tired desperation that clung to every line of his body.

Malik was patient and quiet as he said, "I wish to mend your wounds."

He saw the man's eyes flicker to the door and he understood his worries. He was worried what the other's would think if they saw him uncloaked. It was obvious to Malik that the hood acted as a protection, as a way of shielding himself from the world. He placed the box on the shelf and walked to the door, already angry at the way the other assassin's had spilled their food and disrespected his home.

"Ah, Rafiq, do you wish us to rid you of the novice?" Numair spoke the word _novice _loudly, emphasising the tone of mockery.

"I am capable of handling myself."

Numair smirked, "Interesting choice of words."

He flushed angrily and bit his lip. Numair continued, unaware of his growing anger, "It is alright to ask for help. After all, to even be in the same room as that walking disaster makes me sick. I can't imagine how it would be for you."

"I would ask you to stop-"

"And to not even have the sweetness of revenge on him. To think that Al Maulim even kept him alive. He should have died as your brother did."

Malik felt a rushing fury and when looked towards Altair, he simply saw the man turn his hooded face away. He felt protective suddenly, for the simple act of turning his head away from their barbs revealed to him that Altair did hurt. That he was sensitive and aching and that though he may hide it, he was distressed.

"Get out Numair. Get out right now and take your friends with you," the room was deathly quiet as he spoke, his voice quiet but furious.

Numair raised an eyebrow as he sat up from his reclined elbow on the cushions, "We both know who will win this fight."

Before he could react, Malik had withdrawn the secret dagger he secured to his arm and thrown it at him with deadly accuracy. The dagger pierced the mans arm with a sickening thud, crunching through bone and causing an ear splitting scream to erupt from his mouth. Not caring of guards or lookout's, Malik advanced on the man.

"Leave this place right now or I shall show you why I once hunted with the Eagle. Take those oafish friends with you and return with a show of grace and humility."

The man stumbled to the fountain, moaning as his friends hoisted him through the roof and out into the sun. A blood trail was left in his wake, causing the fountain to turn a shade of pale pink. He stared at the sight for a moment before looking towards Altair.

For only a moment, he caught the man looking at him. Although his hood was up, for a brief moment, his eyes had been clear, his face full of intense emotion. There was wonder and sadness and a look, which reminded Malik of Altair as a child, starved and thin as he ate his first real meal for months upon the brotherhood finding him.

He collected his medicine box and sat beside him, "show me your wounds."

Altair didn't move, his face concealed by the hood. He felt a sudden impulsiveness within him and he carefully pushed back the hood, until it fell gracelessly back to reveal his face. A cut had marred his cheek, causing blood to spill down his face where it had dried. He could see by the rips in the clothing of the man that he had been slashed with a sword or dagger in his side, creeping towards his back.

He blotted the cut on his cheek with a wet rag, aware that to access the side wound, he would need to uncover the man's chest. The man's eyes did not look at him as he carefully wiped the wound.

"Tell me Altair, what happened?"

The man took a deep breath, his eyes far away, "There are madmen in the poor district that walk around with hatred and anger in them. They lash out at any person to cross their paths, trapped in their own mind of paranoia and fear. When I encounter the worst of the madmen, the one's whom run screaming at passer-by's, whom claw at their eyes; I try to put them out of their misery. When I stealth knifed him, he bit down on my shoulder and caused me to drop a dagger. A guard saw and they surrounded me. I escaped only by running."

Malik felt sick. He remembered what it was to be an assassin but often forgot what they had to encounter. He remembered the madmen, their hollow eyes and thin limbs. Their unnatural strength and ferocity. He shuddered.

"Are you alright?" He asked patiently.

Altair narrowed his eyes at him, "And why do you care?"

"Excuse me?"

"You wished me into death's embrace once, what has changed? Why are you helping me now when you have never done so before?"

Feeling frustrated and angry, Malik put the wet rag down, "I don't know. Maybe, it's because that while I resent you and hate you and wish you punished for what you did, I can not forget that you were once my friend… and a good one at that."

Altair pursed his lips, "What caused this sudden revelation when all other times you have hissed at me?"

"Numair showed me a side of the order which I wanted to avoid. I was so wrapped up in my own resentment of you that I failed to notice how the other's were treating you. Regardless of how you have hurt me, your brothers should still welcome you, even help you in finding peace. To know that other's wish… death… upon you, sickens me."

Altair looked down, his face drawn and lost. When he had been found by the brotherhood, he had been as insecure as he looked now. He had been hurt, forced into a life of poverty and pain and hunger.

"I wish," said Malik quietly, "that things had turned out differently. That Kadar had not died. That you had not been demoted."

"I can not mend the past, Malik," said Altair slowly, his eyes earnest and almost innocent, "But I would do anything to gain your trust again."

Malik smiled sadly, "You have begun the process just by saying that."

A silence came over them and Malik felt his eyes water. He wished to embrace Altair as he used to, to feel the warmth and comfort of another person. He had rejected all human contact after his amputation, feeling unworthy to be in any whole person's company. It struck him that Altair had not once made him feel insecure about his arm since his arrival, while others would have stared and gawked at the sleeve obtrusively.

"Shall we attend to your other wound?" He asked softly.

Altair nodded.

After the wounds had been bandaged and treated, Altair settled on the pillows to rest. The sun was setting, casting a dull red hue upon the main room of the Bureau. Although the back of the man was to him, Malik felt that a little bit of trust had been gained today.

He didn't feel as lonely.

~_xxxxxxxxxxxxxx~_

A_nd I dream I'm an eagle_

_And I dream I can spread my wings_

_Flying high, I'm a bird in the sky_

~_xxxxxxxxxxxxxxx~_

AN: I hope you enjoyed my story. Each name correlates with either their actions or their personality.

Thanks for reading and please review!


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